The other day I was asked
If I was connected to “my people.”
A long time ago, when I was six years old
I attended a pow wow and was pushed to the earth because I was white.
White boys weren’t allowed to dance, I was told.
Then, at the age of 11, I was in fight at a middle school track meet for yet another reason.
Injuns can’t compete with Texans, I was told.
By this time, I had turned Indian.
So I spoke up with an American fist and the Texan boy listened.
However, to this day, I do not fight with fists.
I fight with a dance – a dance between two worlds,
One dark and one light,
One half Native American, the other half white.
When I am asked, are you connected to your “people?”
I will answer, no.
I am connected to not a people, a creed, or a race.
Instead, I am connected to the ground and to the earth.
I am connected to the sound of wind moving across the desert dirt.
I am connected to the fire of the sun, the weight of the moon,
and to the arms of my mother and father at birth.
I am connected to the electrical spirit of the land –
The spirit that gave me life, the spirit that fuels my soul,
and the spirit that never asks for anything in return.
Forever beyond flesh and bone,
I am connected to the waves of physics, the laws of nature, the energy of sound
and I am bound to the farthest corners of the universe
secured forever to the smallest blades of grass in the ground.